Day 59: Sun Room

[witchdetective]

Erika stood back to survey her work, and she had no idea why no one seemed to care.

By 'no one', she was referring to the soldiers who were on guard, who should be looking particularly anxious due to the atmosphere of this place. It didn't make sense in her mind. Someone who just took up a large chunk of the middle of the Sun Room to build a

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[lovecrafty]

Rose had been casting longing looks in the direction of the Sun Room for the duration of her captivity in that den of filth that had once called itself a cafeteria. As soon as the doors opened, she absconded to fresh air and architectural critique. The fort wasn't too bad. For a nine year old with a distinct lack of style. Rose removed an entirely superfluous cushion, freeing it up to place atop an inverted chair.

She hoped Lily had seen her bulletin conversation with Badd; everyone else seemed to remember their traumatizing experiences. Shock-induced memory loss was a possibility, but Lily had seemed more afraid than broken.

Hmm. The tables underneath provided a firm, but short, foundation. Maybe she would have a better idea how to improve this structure from the interior. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled in.

[free!]

[mirthfulness]

"Sis!" There was a lump of blanket moving inch-worm style toward Rose's position. The boy underneath was scooting along rather awkwardly on his elbows, a bright throw pillow held over his head like an odd sort of helmet. When he was close enough, he grinned up at the blonde, messy dark hair pressed down to cover violet eyes.

Gamzee had found the display in the sun room to be the best miracle of the morning. Having seen nothing at all wrong with his breakfast, aside from it being as bland as it normally was, he'd eaten it in peace without noticing anyone else's reactions much. Sure some of them had been a little loud, but when weren't there strange and loud conversations going on in this place?

He moved closer, assuming Rose was having as much fun in this setup as he was. "Ain't this just the most bitchtits of cloth hives you ever been in?" Trolls rarely built anything with soft materials like this simply for enjoyment's sake.

[lovecrafty]

Hives? Oh. Gamzee. If they were merely extremely dedicated trolls, as opposed to an entirely alien species, they'd certainly gone to a great deal of trouble with the backstory. Coming from Gamzee, it was astoundingly consistent. He seemed rather impressed with her humble efforts.

"It's not bad, for a preliminary attempt made from substandard materials, but we could do better." Her mother's unique decorating sense had made for more regular building blocks, if one could keep surfaces from sprouting highly irregular and unstable wizards for long enough to assemble a fort.

"Let's get that couch over here." With that as a foundation instead of just a few cushions, they could bring the entire construct to an entirely new level. One at least two feet off the floor. Clearly, the best plan was to approach the resource scarcity as a puzzle, not a hindrance.

One might think that Rose had had enough of that lately, but it was different working with real pillows. A certain frisson of realism. It might even be called...fun.

[mirthfulness]

Oh whoa, she was adding to it? His smile brightened, if possible, when she mentioned getting the other couch. No further prodding was necessary to get the troll to drop the blanket he was wrapped in and scurry to one side of it so he could begin dragging it back to where they were.

If he couldn't have his horn pile, then stacking up a bunch of random objects in an attempt to make some sort of structure for chilling in was the next best thing. The humans in charge didn't seem to be making much a fuss about it either, so clearly they appreciated a good pile as much as the next person. Humans had such cozy things for lounging on during their down time. They made for the best building materials.

"How high we gonna be buildin' it? 'Til it's up to be tipsin' over?" Because that was just the best height all around, reaching that point where it wasn't really stable anymore but was still staying up somehow. A real demonstration of miracles.

[lovecrafty]

"That seems an acceptable goal." There weren't any gates here, or even adequate competition.

"I couldn't help but notice you mentioned hives. Do trolls, then, favor this sort of cramped arrangement? All living one a'top another, far up as the eye can see?" Rose shuddered. She avoided her mother's company whenever possible; that left each of them a half a house, which, while the architectural conceits gave merely the illusion of expansive grandeur, was far more sparsely populated than the Institute.

She considered a throw pillow with grave seriousness. What it lacked in rigidity it made up for in plump stuffing. Maybe she'd just keep that for herself. She wasn't even aware that somewhere in her contemplation she'd hugged it to her chest and was pressing her chin down into the soft top.

[mirthfulness]

"Uhh... Some, maybe? Trolls is all buildin' their own hives, though, kinda." With some help, yes. "Ain't always livin' stacked. I was all to myself bein'." Basically, no. Trolls didn't usually live like this. He wasn't even sure why she'd assume that they did, not making the connection between her theory and the fact that he'd called the structure a hive. It had just been the first comparison that came to mind.

"This is all more done like... Shit, I dunno." It didn't really matter in the long run. He tipped the sofa over on its side, longways, though he hadn't even thought to ask her which way she'd wanted it to begin with. As though they would add extra support, he took the removed cushions and piled them up around the base. Clearly this was a work of architectural genius.

"You humans all in constructs like what we're chillin' in now?"

[lovecrafty]

Rose had been thinking along similar lines; maybe Gamzee knew what he was doing when it came to building after all. She gave his question serious contemplation.

"The standard family unit consists of two parents and their offspring. Large dwellings like this are reserved for the ill, disturbed, orphaned, or collegiate." Did trolls have parents? Or did they just distill from the primordial ooze. It would explain the internet.

But There was an infinite library of things Rose didn't want to know, despite her unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Alien sex had an entire wing, one volume per species, next door to her Mom's sex life and actually thinking too hard about what Dave's brother was doing with those puppets. No relation at all to the treatises on wizard sex. None at all.

Instead, she climbed up on top of the sofa and reached down an imperious hand for a cushion.

[mirthfulness]

Yep. He sure didn't get any of that. Still, he nodded as if he did because he had a feeling that asking for further details would lead to more questions and honestly he didn't care. Some people used these buildings. That was a good enough answer.

"Don't think trolls got themselves 'family units' or whatever those are bein'. We got a lusus what's takin' care of us. Well... mine's dead now, but he did before that." When he was around, anyway. He hardly made any appearances as a sprite, but when he did he quite obviously cared for Gamzee. At least he did from the troll's perspective.

He stared at Rose's hand for a moment as she held it down before finally realizing what she wanted from him. With a lopsided smile, he stuck out a cushion for her to grab. She always seemed to know exactly what she was doing. It was great.

[lovecrafty]

"Families are, perhaps, the most singularly ill-suited demographic to raise young. Too much emotional over-investment, although some recompense is necessary or we would all have been drowned at birth." She didn't know anyone with a textbook familial bond; she suspected the entire concept was a grand delusion originating in the fact that most psychologists had children of their own. "All that intimacy leads to aggression and disturbed behavior."

Having given her lecture, she asked the question she'd been wanting to all along. "What's a lusus?"

He didn't seem especially bothered by the person/thing/guardian's death, which fit with troll but not especially well with the young personbeing handing her a cushion. Obnoxious and weird, but no more so than most of the internet. Just fanatically determined to stick to the alien façade, which had become remarkably more plausible as of late.

[mirthfulness]

Gamzee was starting to realize that nodding and smiling was just going to be the common reaction he'd have to give whenever Rose went on about something because, ironically enough, he didn't get half of what came out of her mouth. She was just really knowledgeable, which he could respect as long as she didn't go out of her way to take the miracles out of life for him.

The question, at least, was understandable. "A lusus is like the motherfucker what watches a wriggler. Helps a troll to all be makin' his way in life. They're like... uh... beasts and shit. Mine was bein' all goat and fish like." A seagoat, for whatever sense that made.

He was trying to imagine a family setting from what Rose had said and was having a difficult time of it. Maybe he'd get a better idea from just hanging out with these humans longer.

[lovecrafty]

"You were raised by a glorified farm animal?" And all trolls were? That explained a lot. "You didn't eat it, did you?"

Perhaps they were like cuckoos, depositing eggs in the nests of unsuspecting aqueoruminants, who would rear the young and then be devoured and/or enslaved to a life of drudgery and plowing on maturity. "Who taught you how to talk?" Troll 4chan? The possibilities were infinite in their horrificness.

[mirthfulness]

"What? Nah, sister! What motherfucker would roast up the hand what feeds them?" The troll actually looked a little offended at that, though it didn't last long. Cultural misunderstandings were nothing to get upset over, after all. "Some lususes be eatin' others, but a troll ain't gonna be all munchin' on them. Don't work that way."

His manner of speaking was another matter, though, and he grinned at her. his lusus hadn't really taught him, if that's what she was thinking. The old goat had been around only for the basics, and barely that. He picked it up from elsewhere. "All followers gettin' themselves prepped for the Vast Honk throw down with this lingo. Gotta pay proper tribute to the motherfuckin' Mirthful Messiah's. Represent with their wicked wordplay."

In all honesty it was mostly just him, but he liked to assume he had it all right.

[lovecrafty]

Troll society sounded complicated.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the Mirthful Messiahs. I'm not sure humans have an equivalent." If he was a Derse dreamer, it could be Ogoloth or one of his dark brethren who was whispering linguistic education in Gamzee's ear, but that wouldn't solve the sociological problem of raising children, as only the small band destined for Sburb would have that access. No, this was something else -- a religion, by the sound of it, but also the first thing she'd seen actually make him sound serious.

Besides, she liked the sound of gods who took tribute with wordplay. It seemed far more fitting than deceased animals, who were offered up before conveniently serving as dinner. "What are they like?"

[mirthfulness]

Oh man. Another human unversed in the ways of his (admittedly obscure) ways of worship. Gamzee immediately scooted closer to her, his expression about as serious as it ever was (which is to say less goofy and slightly more dopey). This was some hardcore gospel he had to get on with now.

"Let me tell you about the Mirthful Messiahs. They're the most joyous as joyous motherfuckers can all be, with their miraculous ways of all bein' touchin' to the hearts of all their followers. When the Vast Honk up and drops down the curtain on everything, they'll be usherin' all us what got our believin' on to the dark carnival, where we'll chill and live like real bros for all what's left of time." This idea genuinely excites him, and there's a bit of a shine to his usually dull stare.

"Motherfuck, sister. It's the best thing for to be prayin' for."

[lovecrafty]

Rose looked dubious. Actually, this was a complete lie. She looked about thirty seconds from slamming the door in Gamzee's face. Problem #1: no door. Problem #2: she had asked him to explain.

Didn't she, herself, have a tome of power? One that, true, she usually thought was a load of hogswollop, if clever and necessary for cultivating the proper aura of teenage rebellion. But sometimes, late at night, she doubted her unfaith.

Sburb had changed all that. The Farthest Ring wasn't a Heaven or Hell to frighten children with, and if there was a Troll Jegus, he probably didn't want anything more to do with a stinky little planet. But the Mirthful Messiahs could be real.

"And, of course, only you are privy to the secret knowledge of how best to serve them." Stuffed, sautéed -- or perhaps...baked? "What about your friends? Membership come with get-out-of-Apocalypse free cards? Or is this strictly a limited club?"

[mirthfulness]

Gamzee tilted his head thoughtfully. He was sure he'd thought of this on his own before, but he couldn't recall what conclusion he'd reached. Probably because he'd zoned out before he'd actually reached it or simply forgotten what he'd been pondering in the first place.

"I dunno, sis. I was all hopin' I guess that I could be gettin' them to get their believe on about my jesterly deities, but a motherfucker can't all force no one to believe something they don't want to, you know? Gotta follow what your heart's all up and tellin' you to." And if they had other thoughts about the afterlife, then who was he to tell them what to follow? That was just putting down someone esle's hopes, and that wasn't chill at all.

"Maybe if I ask them all nice like they'll consider lettin' the others join in. I got enough belief to make up for all my bros." At least he hoped so. It would be harder to get them to notice him across dimensions, possibly.